The OffWorld Job
by caffinebunny
Summary: Jack O'Neill offers his old friend a job. Crossover/fusion thingy with Stargate
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Off-World Job  
Author: Trowa B  
Notes: Not sure *where* this one came from. Anyone missing a bunny?  
Summary: Jack offers an old friend a job.

###########

He doesn't know why he came; why he's here.

Well, no, he knows why he's here. He's here because his friend, Jack O'Neill asked him. What he doesn't know is why, in the final few weeks of his terminal leave, he is here in Colorado Springs, waiting to talk to Jack O'Neill about a new job.

He wishes he had thought to tell Jack that no, what worked for him wasn't going to work for Nathan, but in the end he had decided that he wasn't going to turn down a chance to see his old friend, no matter what Jack may be trying to get him to do. He could still turn whatever it was down, after all. Jack may have been 'saved' by getting sucked into this special ops black hole, but Nate really didn't think it was his bag.

He sighed and presented his ID to the gate guard, who took it, looked it over, checked the list and then handed it back, barely hiding his smirk. "First right, sir," he said, "Then left. The parking lot is to the right and someone will be waiting for you at the main entrance. It's a joint command, sir, so it may be one of the marines."

Arriving in the lot, he found the designated visitor parking and, as he was trying to make sure the visitor's pass stayed attached to his rear view mirror, there was a rap on his window. He jumped, jerking round to glare at the marine.

It had no effect on the man, who looked at him impassively until he got out of his car.

"Major Ford," said the man, offering a salute as Nate jammed his cover onto his head. "Lieutenant De Lint. If you'll follow me please?"

With a final glare, Nate gave a sharp nod. The man did an equally sharp about face and headed smartly for the check-point, leaving Nate a little in his wake. He was having a quiet conversation with the guard as Nate caught up, something to do with "seeing the boss". The guard shot Nate an almost pitying look, but waved them on through.

A guard post near a bank of elevators waved them through with barely a second glance, but snapped off a parade ground salute, as if this weren't some kind of back-woods NATO research post. And how the hell had a research post pulled Jack out of his depression anyway?

He was jerked out of his reverie by a shout of warning sounded from the elevator and a dark haired man in an eye patch hurtled past with a tall, blonde woman in hot pursuit. His escort watched them go, a thoughtful expression on his face.

As the pair disappeared into sunlight, the phone at the desk started to ring.

The guard glanced at it, then back at the Lieutenant. "Please tell me you'll find out the story, sir?" he asked before answering it.

De Lint grinned and nodded, before gesturing to Nathan to board the elevator. He joined him after a moment, punching a code into a keypad before pressing the button for the 27th floor.


	2. Chapter 2

See part 1 for notes.

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As they got off the elevator, Nathan's attention was caught by the list of printed rules on the notice board. Mostly printed at least, he noted idly. The last sheet was hand-written, as though someone had been removing and storing sheets for posterity.

A fairly relaxed command then, he thought, and had been since before Jack was put in charge – which amused him to no end. It was a little like putting the inmates in charge of the asylum he supposed. Jack was a good man, but when it came to mischief like this, if he looked innocent he was usually in the thick of things.

Lieutenant De Lint cleared his throat quietly behind him before he had the chance to investigate more closely, gesturing to yet another desk, and another sign in sheet. A separate command then. Resignedly, he signed his name again before being led on a seemingly random route through the facility to a door that was no different to any of the others they had passed, save for the name plate.

General J. O'Neill.

Nathan was impressed. Someone had obviously seen through the façade.

Jack owed him a hundred bucks.

The lieutenant rapped sharply on the door and waited for the call of "Enter!" before pushing it open.

"Sir, Major Ford to see you, sir," he introduced, stepping into the room to hold the door open.

Jack was on his feet and round the desk as Nathan stepped through the doorway, dressed, as was his wont, in the standard issue olive drab BDUs. Another man, a blond with a crew-cut and glasses, got to his feet a beat behind Jack from the other side of the desk.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Dismissed," Jack greeted Nathan's guide.

The man saluted smartly, then retreated. The door was barely closed when Jack grabbed Nathan's proffered hand and dragged him in for an embrace. He pushed him away again, holding him at arms length for a moment. "Good to see ya, Nate," he greeted. "Damn good to see ya."

Jack was looking good, he noted. His face had lost the puffiness of alcoholism that Nathan just knew his own was gaining, and though his hair was now more grey than brown, he was looking many times better than the last time he had seen him.

Nathan nodded. "You too, Jack." He allowed himself to be guided across the room to the desk.

"Nate, this is Dr Daniel Jackson, head of the civilian staff here on base. Danny, this is Major Nathan Ford. We were at the academy together."

The man smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose with one hand while extending the other for Nathan to shake. "Good to meet you, Major."

Nathan nodded, shaking 'Danny's' hand. Gun calluses, he noted immediately, well formed alongside the calluses from whatever the man's job was in civilian life. "Likewise," he replied with a nod.

The younger man gestured to the chairs in front of the desk; obviously he was privy to this information also; before turning to look expectantly at Jack, who rolled his eyes.

Nathan covered his smirk with one hand. The man hadn't changed a bit. Or rather, had changed back to the way he had been before Charlie's death. He couldn't help but wonder if the younger man had been something to do with the change. With a mental shake, he tuned into what Jack was saying.

#####

Daniel was watching Nathan Ford carefully. He knew that Jack wanted to offer his friend this chance; wanted desperately to offer this man the same chance he himself had been given, whether he had recognised it at the time or not. That was why Daniel was here. This was not potentially a suicide mission, was not a one way trip, and was most certainly no longer something which could be swept under the rug if they failed.

He recognised the signs of alcoholism on the man; the slightly glazed eyes, the puffiness in his face, and stared at him thoughtfully. He tuned out the recruitment speech Jack had planned in favour of a more detailed examination. Major Ford, for his part, was too engrossed in what Jack was saying to take notice of Daniel's scrutiny.

Skin and hair were clean. Nails were short, but tidy, not dirty or smashed. The man's clothes were clean and suitably pressed. A functioning alcoholic, then. Just about. He glanced back to Jack and waited until the other man caught his eye before he gave a tiny shrug. This one he was leaving up to Jack.

#####

Jack caught Daniel's shrug and almost sighed. He leaned forwards. "But what I want," he continued, "Is a second in command who I know I can trust. We've had a few…_problems_ around here with that issue."

Daniel snorted in derision, making Jack shoot him a quelling look which, as usual, Daniel blithely ignored. One of these days, someone on SG1 was going to remember that _Jack_ was in charge. That day didn't seem to be today.

"And," he continued, "You always seem to have had a knack for sniffing out trouble. Believe me, with this base, you'll need it."

Daniel muttered something which sounded suspiciously like, "As above, so below," which made Nate smirk. No respect. He got no respect.

He watched his friend mull it over; could see the moment when Nate decided to turn it down and stood abruptly. "Ya know what?" he asked. "You should see something before you make up your mind."

#####

Nathan hadn't believed them. I mean, sure, the stone ring was pretty impressive. Certainly it was grandiose enough to make someone think twice.

But then the sirens had started. The sirens and the in-pouring of marines into the room with the stone ring, and then it had flashed, a great stream of what looked like water rushing out from the centre before coalescing into a shimmering blue pool, like a vertical swimming pool.

And people had appeared out of it. Two tall men, a short woman and a not-so-tall man in cuffs. The man in cuffs stumbled out of the water, whereas the others appeared as if through a doorway, leading Nathan to believe the man had received a little assistance. As he righted himself and looked around, his shoulders sagged slightly.

Two of the trio were marines, while the third wore a uniform and rank patches Nathan had never seen before, with his long, white-blond hair in a long, loose style the US military would never have allowed. Something was obviously passed along to the group from whoever was in charge down there, and the marines marched the cuffed man out between them as Daniel Jackson entered the room, hand extended in greeting to the blond.

He looked at Jack when his old friend muttered, "Crap," in a resigned tone.

The other man shrugged. "That," he said gesturing at the ring as the blue water vanished, "Is the Stargate."

#####

"Nate," Jack said softly, "I know you took a demotion so that you could have the time off to look after your son, and I know you've been essentially carrying out the duties of second in command of a base regardless of your not holding the appropriate rank. If you were to take the job, you would be promoted with immediate effect back to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, with six months to serve before you would be considered for promotion to full bird.

"You don't have to give me an answer now, but I would like you to come sit in on the meeting I'm about to get sucked into; give you an idea of the sort of thing you would have to deal with if you took the job."


	3. Chapter 3

See part 1 for header notes. Slight GW crossover also here, as well as a brief appearance by SG11 from "Things SG teams are no longer allowed to do".

#####

Nathan settled into the chair at the far end of a long table in what Jack had informed him was the main briefing room of the base. Two guards had been placed at the door, which was now firmly shut, and there were what were apparently blast shields over the windows through which Nathan had been given his first view of the Stargate.

He studied the trio who had arrived un-cuffed, the two marines on one side of the table, the blond in the odd uniform on the other.

Jack was at the head of the table, expression stern.

"Major Brooks?" he began.

The tall man nodded. "Yes sir. We were correct, unfortunately. Lieutenant Johnson, USAF, is not, in fact, the real Lieutenant Johnson. We've still got some work to do on that – we're hoping to get some information from the imposter during interrogation. He's a member of Delta Force. Master Sergeant Eliot Spencer. The captain has the details from Colonel Une."

Jack blinked. "You set colonel Une on someone who _might not_ have been the person we were looking for?" he demanded of the short woman, who shrugged.

"Could have been worse, sir," she commented offhandedly. "We could have asked Preventer Maxwell for assistance."

The blond snorted. "Believe me, General, he was eager to help," he informed. "Preventer Yuy had to remove him from the vicinity in the end."

Jack's lips set in a firm line. Mischief had been happening and he hadn't been privy to it, Nathan recognised. "And Colonel Une's opinion was?" the General asked after a beat.

Brooks spread his hands on the desk. "She believes he was tricked into it. If he was, that'd mean we've got all three of the conspirators we uncovered."

Pinching the bridge of his nose briefly, Jack nodded. "I am not looking forward to breaking this to Teal'c," he muttered. "Preventer Merquise. Do you have Colonel Une's report for me?"

The man nodded. "Indeed, General." He slid a disc across the table. "She sends her regards."

Jack nodded. "I've got some files to go back to her if you have time to wait. They're from the last joint mission; our share of the debriefing." He glanced at his own notes. "Your opinions on the Master Sergeant?"

Merquise sat back in his chair, bringing a hand thoughtfully to his chin. "He's a fighter, but not a shooter. Doesn't like guns at all, in fact, although he is as good a shot as Preventer Yuy." He paused briefly. "He's cornered. This will have started off as an appeal for help, but he will very rapidly have found out that the person who initially hired him holds all the cards; that they have more leverage than he does. As with the other two, he will have got in over his head far more rapidly than he would have thought was possible. Captain O'Neill would have more insight into the situation, but they may have threatened his family."

He sat forward slightly. "We are willing to offer assistance to track down the source of the problems, if you so require," he finished.

After a brief glance in Nathan's direction, one only the short woman followed, Jack looked intently at each of the trio close to him in turn. "Alright. Brooks, O'Neill, I expect your reports on my desk tomorrow morning. Preventer Merquise, your usual accommodation is available to you. And now, lady and gentlemen, they are waiting for you in the infirmary."

He gestured for Nathan to follow him as he rose and headed for the door to his office again.

#####

Jack studied the younger man sat in front of his desk. He was cuffed to the arms of the chair, ankles shackled, long hair tied back in his usual neat braid.

Now that he was looking for them, he recognised the signs. The posture was slightly wrong for a regular in the air force; closer to Jack's own when he had been elevated to black ops thanks to his skill as a sniper. The hair could be excused as cultural, and in fact had been in his "official" jacket.

He had been surprised about the gun thing. A lot of the guys he had known in black ops had been fascinated with the latest gun, the latest gadgets.

He let the silence stretch, going over his notes from the meeting, as well as the files from the previous investigations of the other two infiltrators, with the occasional brief glance at Spencer. Nate was sat quietly in the corner, reading a sanitised version of one of SG1's mission reports with a rapt fascination.

There was a clink as Spenser finally fidgeted a little, making a cuff knock against the chair arm, but Jack still didn't look up. He continued to read, until Spencer let out a resigned sigh, then looked up, staring at Spenser impassively.

#####

Eliot mentally rolled his eyes as the silence stretched. He had done his homework before embarking on this assignment. General Jack O'Neill, former black ops, now head of a Most Secret research project out of Cheyenne Mountain which, despite it being listed as a research project, had the highest level of combat specialists assigned to it of any onshore base.

So maybe it was combat research, he had thought, until he had been given records on the number of archaeologically and anthropologically qualified civilian staff also assigned to the base. He had taken particular interest in the head of the civilian staff – obviously, he hadn't been with the project since the beginning. That honour had gone to Catherine Langford, whose father had apparently discovered the gate in Egypt.

But still, a black ops trained officer in charge of an onshore base? And a research post at that? He had understood then why he had been ordered to investigate. The casualty rates were as high as those of any front-line posting, even among the civilian staff, and that just didn't add up.

It wasn't until he had got here; until he had been given his induction and then been shown the Stargate; that he realised his assignment may not have been entirely kosher.

When he had questioned his orders though...

He had been curtly informed that if he did not continue to carry out orders, the fact that he was impersonating an officer would be exposed, and certain information about him obeying an order that was technically illegal would come to the attention of General O'Neill.

By that point, Eliot had really not wanted that to happen. He had genuinely liked the man, had on occasion been invited with several members of other SG teams to barbeques at the General's house and had even met the guy's three adopted kids. Two adopted kids and the younger clone; equally cranky in Eliot's mind, but with acne and teenagers to complain about too. And he liked Teal'c. Teal'c who seemed to have taken a shine to him, which was probably the reason he had been invited to the barbeques in the first place, and with whom he could discuss fighting techniques and learn new methods.

Outside of his original unit, this was probably his favourite assignment, which had no doubt led to him being less careful than he should have been, which had, in turn, led to his current predicament. And using the pilots to arrest him just hadn't been fair. Not in the slightest.

Much soul searching later and O'Neill still hadn't looked up; nor had the other man who was sat across the room, reading a file. He stretched a little with a sigh, bringing O'Neill's head up slowly, and began to speak.


	4. Chapter 4

Back to just the canon characters here other than brief mentions. I don't know if JAG is the right group but I figure that they would have authority at the SGC because of the marines there. I also have no clue if they have a "Special Investigations" group.

See part 1 for header notes

#####

Nathan watched the young man intently. The tension in his frame was evident to anyone who cared to look, so certain was he that his next stop would be in front of a firing squad. Jack's thunderous expression as Spencer related the story of how Major General Dubenich had duped him into spying on the SGC was not helping matters.

"And the real lieutenant Johnson?" Jack asked eventually.

Eliot's lips thinned briefly. "Dead," he managed. "So far as I know. I was taken to see his grave after Dubenich offered me the, uh, _opportunity_," he continued. He fell silent for a moment, before offering resignedly, "I don't even know if the guy was real."

Jack's face softened slightly at that, evidently hopeful that there had been no further effects on anyone but the SGC and that there had been no family who had lost someone to Dubenich's machinations.

The general made a note. "Dubenich. Short guy. Curly hair and glasses?" he asked after a moment, and recognition suddenly stung Nathan. He stared at Spencer, hoping that it wasn't the person he was thinking of, but was disappointed when the younger man nodded.

Jack looked across at Nathan, expression quite clearly saying, "_Crap_!"

Nathan knew the sentiment was echoed in his own face. Major General Victor Dubenich. The man who had caused Jack's squad to be captured in Iraq, on an operation in the middle of nowhere that supposedly no-one but COC had known about.

After a moment of silence which stretched for just a beat too long, Jack turned back to Spencer and asked, "And you went along with it, why?"

Spencer shut down, face going almost perfectly blank as he stared at the desk just in front of the General.

"Look, son, we know Lieutenants Parker and Hardison basically did it for the challenge," and Jack's expression clearly read 'Kids!', "and I'd expect that of two people in the service due to the courts, but your service jacket says you're a volunteer, that you're confident in your own abilities, and that the only thing holding you back from making the leap to lieutenant is your attitude."

Spencer looked about to protest, making Jack arch his eyebrows in a 'See?' gesture, one which the younger man evidently picked up on, because he subsided, closing his mouth again. "Yes sir," he mumbled, making Jack give him an odd look which Nathan just _knew_ meant that Jack was having to hold himself back from confessing that he himself had been given a similar warning about the reason he hadn't been promoted.

He glanced across at Nathan, giving him a questioning look. Nathan rolled his eyes in response, but nodded. He should have known. _This _was why Jack had asked him here. He could have just _said_ he was calling in the damned favour without trying to make Nathan think he had agreed out of his own free will. And damnit, if Jack had just explained the situation Nathan would probably have volunteered anyway, but Jack was evidently making the attempt to let him think that offering his help in the investigation was his own idea.

"Guards," Nathan directed, speaking for the first time, "please take Sergeant Spencer back to holding."

He caught the tensing of the man's shoulders as the guards un-cuffed him from the chair just in time. "Sergeant Spencer," he snapped, voice a whip-crack in the quiet of the office, "Stand down!"

Piercing blue eyes turned on him, wide with surprise as the action-ready tension vanished as if it had never been there in the first place.

"Sergeant Spencer, I'm Major Ford, currently of Special Investigations under JAG. We will be investigating this case, given your allegations, and I will be down to holding to take your statement later, along with Parker and Hardison. But right now, the General and I need to discuss this."

After a moment, Spencer relented. His expression clearly informed Nathan that he, Spencer, wasn't about to forget a face.

As soon as the young man had been led out at a shuffle by the two marines, Nathan dropped into the vacated chair.

"You twisty bastard," he said warmly to Jack, who smirked at him, eyes twinkling.

"That's high praise coming from you," the General informed him. "Thoughts on the kid?"

Nathan shrugged. "I need to get the full story in writing. And then the story from the two lieutenants. And then we're going to need to get Dubenich to incriminate himself."

Jack flicked his brows up a notch in query.

"You have a Captain Devereaux in your legal department, do you not?"

#####

Eliot sighed, rubbing his wrists as he dropped onto the narrow bunk. It wasn't the worst room he'd slept in, but the sword of Damocles hanging over his head was the heaviest yet, and on the thinnest rope.

Parker leaned down from where she had settled on the top bunk of the pair. "You too?" she asked brightly, as though this was simply one more obstacle to overcome.

He snorted. "Yeah. Me too."

There was a soft chuckle from the other bunk. "Thought you'd be looong gone, man. Didn't think there was a marine here who could take you down."

Eliot glared but the bunk; and its occupant; utterly failed to burst into flames. "They took me to Sanq, for a meeting with Colonel Une," he informed them. "Three of those Pilots and half of SG11 were there."

"And our dear Eliot wouldn't beat up band-members, would he?" Parker queried.

It was moments like this that Eliot really wished he had been sent on this assignment alone. "I played with 'em _one time_ because Major Brooks was a victim of De Lint's directions and he found out I can play a little guitar, okay. _One time_. That does not mean they're my friends."

Mentally he winced. Even to himself, his tone sounded defensive.

Parker seemed satisfied by that, rolling back up onto her bunk, but Hardison took that opportunity to sit up and stare at him. "You keep telling yourself that, man. When Lieutenant Colonel Carter caught me out, I felt like a complete heel. I know we were here to gather intel, and that's our job, but man, the way she looked at me? I felt like I was about _five_."

"What did Teal'c say?" Parker asked abruptly.

Feeling even worse, Eliot ground out, "I don't know. He's off base."

"Oh, man," Hardison groaned. "What do you want reading at your funeral?"

Deciding that enough was enough, Eliot lay back on his bunk and draped an arm over his eyes, realising his mistake only moments later as Hardison stated with utter certainty, "You're not really a lieutenant?"

"What?" Parker demanded, swinging down to look at the patches on his uniform that had borne rank insignia and now showed trailing thread and bare velcro. "Really?"

"Oh man," Hardison sympathised. "They were really determined to get you."

Parker looked between the pair. "What's going on?" she demanded, not having quite caught up yet.

"Impersonating an officer," Hardison told her. "Wouldn't have seemed a big deal at the time, not when we were expecting to be in and out. They got you but good, man," he finished.

He realised what Parker was doing a moment too late as she dropped off the bunk and shoved him over so that she was half lying on him, between him and the door. He allowed her hug for a moment as his eyebrows tried to migrate to his hairline, then protested, "Would you get offa me?"

She poked him in the ribs with one bony finger. "Shut up and take it like a man," she told him, then added gleefully, "And that's an order, mister."


	5. Chapter 5

See part 1 for header information. Slightly shorter chapter this time – it just wouldn't stretch.

#####

Alec Hardison very carefully did not laugh at the expression on Eliot's face as Parker hugged him. He found he quite enjoyed breathing, and laughing right now would probably not be conducive to that.

He sighed and lay back himself, trying to see a way out of this mess.

Dubenich, it seemed, had grossly underestimated this command. He had taken General O'Neill at face value, and General O'Neill had neatly sidestepped their expectations and unleashed the hounds. Not that he would ever call Lieutenant Colonel Carter a hound to her face. Or Major Feretti for that matter.

And certainly not Doc J. unless he wanted more information than he thought could possibly exist on people being compared to animals.

He hadn't stood a chance, he reflected. Yeah, he was a child genius, one of Intelligence's wunderkind. What he wasn't, was a front line fighter with above par reflexes and an ability to think on his feet at high speed. Under fire. With a suspicious general breathing down his neck. A suspicious general whom you were beginning to suspect was brighter than everybody thought.

Add to that his tendency to babble nervously, and something was bound to slip.

Lieutenant Colonel Carter had been very nice about it, he reflected. Not that she needed to be nasty about it; he had seen her sparring with Teal'c, after all.

He had been the first, which showed exactly the level of security they had on their computers. It had been completely unexpected, a whole level of checks and balanced behind what he had been expecting, what he had been looking for, in code he had never seen before.

Something reverse engineered from a captured Goa'uld vessel, Lieutenant Colonel Carter had informed him as she had taken him to holding. At least she hadn't had the marine guards come and drag him off to the cell in which he and his co-conspirators were now being held.

He'd been expecting to see Eliot Spencer sitting in the cell waiting for him, and when the man hadn't been present had merely assumed that they had tried to arrest him and failed. It had therefore come as something of a surprise when Parker joined him, ducking her head and pulling an 'oops' face as she entered, and informed him; after checking for bugs, naturally; that their third was still on the job.

Alec had to admit that he had been surprised. Or at least, had been surprised until Parker explained that Eliot was Delta Force and therefore 'brighter than he looks'.

So seeing the other man standing resignedly in the doorway as the marine guard removed his cuffs and ankle shackles had been something of a surprise. That they were actually letting him out of the hardware at all was even more of a surprise.

And okay, poking a cranky Delta Force operative with a metaphorical stick was possibly a bad idea, but the sour expression on the man's face was too good to leave alone. Particularly when there were guards outside the door to stop him from being outright killed.

Probably.

But all Eliot did was lie back on his bunk and cover his face with one arm. The move revealed the blank patches where the other man's name tape and rank patches were missing.

Hardison considered his own uniform. The one which still bore the rank patches and name tape. He considered Parker's uniform, which also still bore the items and came to a startling conclusion. "You're not really a lieutenant?"

He was surprised. The man had an air of easy command about him, one more appropriate to an officer than an NCO, and was about to say so when something else dawned on him. If Eliot were the only one impersonating a different rank, was this set-up _only_ to gather information about the SGC?

#####

Jack rapped on the door to the Legal department that the SGC shared with the NATO command above them before pushing it open and ambling in. Nathan was a couple of paces behind as he made a beeline for a desk near the back of the mostly empty room. He gestured for Nathan to make the introductions as the rest of the room took in the BDUs with no rank patch and dismissed the man in charge of the SGC as one of the civilian contractors. Not that he blamed them. The facade was a good one, and let him find out a heck of a lot more about what was really happening around his base than roaming the corridors in shirt sleeve order.

Nathan glanced at him briefly before heading over to the brunette at the desk.

"Hello Sophie," he greeted quietly, making the woman startle and knock over her coffee cup.

"Nate!" she exclaimed, eyes widening. "What are you doing here?"

He smirked at her. "I might ask you the same thing, Captain, particularly after you shot a senior officer."

Jack noticed that Nathan was very carefully not turning round. Not that it would have mattered anyway.

"This the time you and Army CID were investigating the same thing and managed to flush out each other?" he asked the pair.

Really, you wouldn't have known that Nathan was holding back a blush unless it was pointed out that the backs of his ears were turning pink.

He continued: "The one where you and your fellow flushee were put in the same room by medical personnel because you'd pissed everyone else off so they thought you should make each other suffer?"

Captain Deverereaux narrowed her eyes at him. "Nate, won't you introduce us?" she asked as Jack caught the flash of recognition in her gaze. He filed the 'Nate' away for later torment. Possibly over beer and barbeque.

Nathan nodded, turning slightly to shoot Jack a 'Behave!' glare, one Jack replied to with a smirk which quite clearly read 'Ranking. Officer. Whatcha gonna do about it?' and said, "Captain, this is General O'Neill. General, this is Captain Sophie Devereaux. "

Jack extended his hand to her just as she moved to salute, which seemed to baffle her for a moment. "Captain," he said politely, "We have a proposition for you."

He could tell at first glance that she was as bad as Nathan. Tied to a desk, the pent up energy made her twitchy and nervous. He had heard from others in the department that she was wrong more often than she was right in basic cases, and that she came out with wild ideas for the more complex ones that had people laughing in the canteen, never mind that she had been proven correct in more than one of the cases.

Boredom. It was, he guessed, like taking Carter and putting her into middle school, making her teach basic calculus day in day out, or forcing Daniel to teach French to sixth grade. Wheels would spin, gears would grind and no-one would come out the other side unscathed.

She raised a brow challengingly. "Really, General?" she queried with a brief glance at Nathan and oh yeah, Jack was going to be asking his friend about that later. "I'm intrigued."


	6. Chapter 6

Sophie glanced from the General to Nate and back again. "So let me get this straight. You," she gestured at the General, "Want to charge Major General Victor Dubenich with something that's going to get him drummed out? Or at the very least transferred somewhere, and I quote, 'So dank and remote that they have to ship sunlight in'?"

She received an amused nod in reply.

"And _you_," she gestured at Nate, "Want to make sure that a young man who should quite legitimately be charged with impersonating an officer and illegally entering a Most Secret facility is _not_ charged with same. As well as ensuring the two Lieutenants who were with him are cleared of all charges?"

Nate looked considering for a moment. "Well, I'd like for that to be done first, actually, because I'll need them to help you with Jack's request," he informed her dryly, "But essentially, yes, that's what we want."

She narrowed her eyes at them. "How long do I have?"

The general smiled.

*****

Smiling quietly to himself, Jack made a start on the paperwork Walter had rushed through at his request. He was almost done when a thought struck him.

The phone was already ringing when his eyes fell on his trash can and he realised that he still owed retribution to Carter and Feretti for their prank earlier. On the heels of that thought came a second one suggesting that Carter may not actually answer in case this _was _the retribution.

He was about to give up and go find Daniel to make him call when the phone was answered.

"Carter?" he asked as all he got was dead air. "You there?"

There was a sigh, then she replied, "Yes sir. Was there something you wanted?"

Her tone was one of someone expecting the other shoe to drop.

"We've got the last one. All three are in holding, and Major Ford is here."

Carter was suddenly all business. "Who was it?" she asked as he heard the rustling of a jacket being donned and the sound of a door closing. "Sorry, sir, I just got in. I can be there in twenty minutes."

Just got in? He filed that away for future reference. She and Feretti had apparently been in hiding since they escaped the base mere moments ahead of his calls to first the main entrance and then the main gate. He would be checking his place for booby traps it seemed, because Feretti's idea of "the last place Jack would look" was always Jack's front room.

It didn't help that Ed and Jon were on Feretti's side more often than not and would let the man in and provide him with beer. _Jack's _beer.

"Thanks Carter. See you in twenty."

There was the briefest of hesitations before she agreed and hung up.

*****

"So you know the General?" Sophie asked of him once Jack had gone.

Nathan shrugged. "We were at the academy at the same time. He was the leader of the squadron I was assigned to as a first year cadet. Kept running into each other at postings. Figured it was easier just to keep in touch after a while."

She raised her brows at him, apparently not entirely sure she believed the story, but she let it slide. "And these three?"

Another shrug. "Never met 'em. But Jack would rather go for the head rather than punish three kids for following orders, legal or not." He paused briefly, then continued, "He knows just how hard it is when you hit the grey area of special ops, believe me."

"Well, wiping the problem of the three of them being in an area they have no clearance for is simple enough. You state 'Special Skills' and make their clearance retroactive. It's mainly used when personnel are needed for covert ops who haven't been cleared. They'll be checked out and clearance granted retroactively.

"Sergeant Spencer is actually the least problematic here. He's already got the right clearance level because of his original assignment, but Hardison's a pretty big problem. He's here because of computer crime, and technically shouldn't even be within spitting distance of the type of computing power you have here. We're going to need Lieutenant Colonel Carter to verify that she needed him specifically, and then she's going to need to go up in front of the JAG to explain why things were done the wrong way round."

She paused, considering. "I can call in a favour and get that heard this week, I think, provided my contact is still there. And we'll tag Parker on the back end of that hearing, because she was only assigned as personnel, not making use of her particular skill set on the job."

Nathan snorted at that. "That's because she was using her skill set _off_ the job," he pointed out dryly. "She did volunteer to return all the intel she had gathered."

Sophie gave him a very _old _look. "Was this before or after she had passed the information on to her contact?"

He returned the look. "Mostly before. They've only done one drop since they were inserted, and that was three weeks ago. They're due another drop in a week, and for a large part of the first month, they weren't cleared for anything that Dubenich might have been interested in."

*****

Parker was watching Eliot pace the floor when she heard the lock click open. He had been at it for a good fifteen minutes, unable to put excess energy into any sort of meaningful action here in this ten by ten box of a room.

He and Hardison evidently heard the noise too, because Hardison was suddenly sitting upright on his bunk, ready to move to stand at attention by it, and Eliot was abruptly in position by the front corner of the set of bunk beds he and Parker were sharing. The door was swinging open by the time Parker lazily rolled off her own bunk, dropping neatly in next to Eliot.

The person who stepped through the door was not, as she had expected, a large MP with orders to transport them to Leavenworth for holding. It was General O'Neill himself, aiming for intimidating in dress blues.

Parker thought he looked more like a favoured uncle. She stared at him intently, trying to figure out what was going on. She was aware that her take on body language wasn't quite the same as everyone else's, but she was fairly sure she had the General figured out.

A glance across at Eliot revealed nothing, but Hardison looked petrified.

Ah.

Maybe she needed to work on that a little?

He looked them over for a long, silent moment, then stepped back from the door. "Please go with Major Ford," he told them quietly, voice giving away nothing. "He will arrange for your official statements to be taken and you will be signing some non-disclosure agreements about the things you have seen while in the employ of the SGC."

Parker had expected Hardison to object, had practically been counting on it, but Hardison appeared frozen with terror. After a brief moment, Eliot huffed out a near-silent breath and barked, "Permission to speak, sir?"

O'Neill gave him the hairy eyeball. "Permission granted, Sergeant," he said softly after a moment.

"May I ask why we're not already on our way to Leavenworth?"

There was a long, considering pause. "You're still here, sergeant, because as of this moment all three of you are material witnesses in a case of treason against the United States of America."


	7. Chapter 7

Okay guys, I'm sorry about the delay, but my _entire_ future was dependent upon whether or not I passed Mon/Tue (I did, thankfully!) and that's not an exaggeration. If I'd failed, I wouldn't be able to go into my chosen career, and with it being the 3-job weekend too, something had to give. But I'm back now! See! There is fic!

Also, thanks to all you guys who have been kind enough to r&r or put me on your alert or favourites list!

As usual, see part 1 for header details!

#####

Jack studied the three sat at the briefing room table. Of the small group, only the one in the most trouble right now was brazen enough to meet his gaze unrepentantly. He snorted to himself. Yeah, how had he missed that this kid was special forces? He didn't bother to avert his gaze as the door opened, knowing it could only be one of two groups.

Carter and Daniel, he identified from the footsteps; as familiar to him as his own after so many missions together. "Take a seat, Carter," he greeted. "Daniel, may I see you in my office?"

Carter gave him a crisp nod, totally disregarding parker, Hardison and Spencer. And that was going to take some getting used to, calling the guy Spencer and not Johnson. He mentally sighed and shut the door behind himself as Daniel dropped a file onto his desk.

"What did you want?" Daniel asked after the silence stretched.

Jack snorted. "Ever get the feeling you're too old for all this crap?" he asked, drawing a smirk from the younger man.

"I've been feeling too old for this crap since I woke up in the sarcophagus on Ra's ship," he pointed out with an amused expression. "What do you want?"

"I want you," he said quietly, "to give our good buddy Colonel Chekov a call and explain the situation to him."

Daniel stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as he worked the reasoning through. "Jack, palming Dubenich off on Russia will probably get the 'Gate taken back," he pointed out after a moment, equally quietly. "And you _like_ Colonel Chekov."

Rolling his eyes, Jack leaned in closer. "I need his help to set the guy up," he murmured, all too aware that he had to sweep his office twice a day for bugs. "He doesn't need to worry about getting stuck with the fallout. We'll deal with that. Tell him he gets to shout and bluster and tell everyone that the SGC are uncooperative morons. He'll enjoy that."

Staring at him for a moment in disbelief, Daniel sighed. "Are you planning on sending Dubenich to Russia, or do you want Chekov here?" he asked, eying Jack suspiciously, and Jack nearly laughed. As appealing as sending Dubenich to Russia to be well and truly caught was, it would be a better idea to have him here and under their own control.

"Daniel," he said, as though the answer should be obvious.

"Jack."

Ouch. Okay, so maybe Daniel's patience was getting just as thin as his own. He had genuinely taken to Parker, who had seemed endlessly curious about civilisations in general and had overlooked Daniel's lack of social skills when he was mid-flow with an ease only previously exhibited by Teal'c.

"Here, Daniel," he said softly. "Ask when he's available, and tell him he can collect their next round of data while he's here."

Daniel nodded and stepped away, heading off to make a call from the phone in the commissary just to ensure it was an un-tapped line, leaving Jack to sag against his desk with a sigh. Teal'c.

He had to break the news to Teal'c.

Maybe he could get Carter to do it.

Revenge was sweet and all that.

#####

Carter looked up as the whispered conversation she had been pretending to ignore cut off with a surprised grunt. Johnson was glaring at Hardison as Parker rolled her eyes.

Not Johnson, she reminded herself; Spencer and Sergeant Spencer at that.

Parker huffed. "Ma'am!" she protested. "Permission to speak?"

Bemused, Carter nodded.

"May I exchange seats with Sergeant Spencer please, ma'am?"

Carter stared at her for a moment, willing away the smirk that threatened. "You may, lieutenant. Sergeant Spencer, trade seats please." The man hesitated long enough that she was about to speak again, when he pulled his gaze from Hardison and gave a curt nod.

"Yes ma'am," he said softly, getting up and switching places with Parker. "Sorry ma'am," he added as he resettled himself.

Her lips thinned. "Somehow, Sergeant Spencer," she told him quietly, "I don't think sorry is going to cut it right now."

He looked at her like she had just slapped him. She managed to meet his gaze for a moment, then jerked her own back down to her paperwork. "No more talking. The general will be back soon."

#####

When Nate and Sophie entered, Jack was sat at the head of the table, holding the folder that Dr Jackson had been carrying earlier. Of Dr Jackson there was no sign, but Nate nodded to Jack, who gestured at the chair between himself and Lieutenant Colonel Carter. Sophie nodded sharply to him, putting a sheaf of forms down in front of each of the three prisoners as Nate met each of their gazes in turn.

"You need to read those forms and sign them," he told them. "They are amended. Please take careful note of the amendments and initial next to them to indicate you have seen them."

The three hesitated, and Nate was about to speak again when Jack looked up from his file. "Get signing," he ordered, voice dangerously quiet and evidently at the end of his patience. Or, at the very least, fast approaching it and doing damage control before he got there.

Whichever it was, first Hardison, then Parker and Spencer almost as one, took up pens and began reading, apparently coming to an unspoken consensus that discretion was the better part of valour.

Nate wasn't entirely surprised when the sergeant finished first. He could well imagine the number of these non-disclosure agreements the man had been given to sign in the past; had expected the man to simply skim until he found the amendments and simply check what had been altered; and had been proven right.

He waited until the sergeant looked up and jerked his head in a 'follow me' gesture. Spencer glanced across at Jack, who nodded gravely, then gestured for Spencer to follow Nate into the hallway.

#####

Eliot glanced back once as he followed the dark haired guy into the hallway. He was a major according to his rank patches, but Eliot couldn't help but feel that something was going on here.

He was proved right when he was herded into an unmarked office with a desk and several sets of empty shelves. The name-bar still on the desk read 'Colonel J. O'Neill', with an oddly surprising number of letters after it. He didn't know why he was so surprised. No-one got to that rank without a PhD of some description.

He was pulled out of his reverie as the Major thrust a bundle of papers at him. "This is a better set up for the identity of Lieutenant Johnson. Learn it, then destroy the crib sheets. You are now officially on an undercover assignment, given to you by General Jack O'Neill, who some three months ago requested your assistance in finding the contact of a member of the Trust who was attempting to infiltrate the SGC. Ah. Questions later. Read now.

"Your instructions were to lay low and make it known that you would not be adverse to 'assisting' in this type of operation. Do you know how Dubenich selected you?"

Eliot stared at him blankly for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. "No, sir." And he really didn't. The man had simply shown up at HQ one day demanding to speak to him personally, and he had been given his assignment. He had queried it with his superiors, but they had okayed it and here he had found himself.

With a last, slightly wild-eyed stare at the man who had just given him the info-dump, Eliot resigned himself to being sucked further down the rabbit hole than he had ever wanted to go and began reading.


	8. Chapter 8

Well, this was _supposed _to be on hold, with one thing and another, but uh... yeah. Here's chapter 8. Even though after demanding to be written, it pitched a fit and wouldn't come out right. See part 1 for header.

#####

Parker made a point of reading every word of the non-disclosure agreement carefully, somewhat surprised when Eliot flicked through just looking for the alterations. Frowning, she returned to her reading as Eliot was instructed to go with the newcomer with the major's golden oak leaves on his collar after he signed the agreement and slid it back across the table to the dark haired woman who had handed them out.

The pair had returned before she had finished and handed her form back to the brunette captain who had arrived with the major, Eliot settling next to the woman and across the table from herself and Hardison, shoulders tense and expression set.

Not happy, but not making a break for it.

Interesting.

She wondered what the major had on Eliot to put the wary man so definitely on his side. She wondered if it was the same thing that Dubenich had.

Her musings were interrupted by General O'Neill clearing his throat as he gathered his own paperwork. "Major Ford, you have my permission to requisition personnel, within reason, with the understanding that you are participating in a research project. Beyond that, as with all research projects, the only thing I want to know is the bottom line. Lieutenant Colonel Carter; with me."

And with that the pair were gone, the general very carefully not glancing back at any of them, even though the set of his shoulders said that he wanted to.

Hardison was the first of the trio to catch on, his startled, "Oh, hell no. The General just gave you carte blanche, and we're the personnel!" letting everyone know exactly how happy he was with the situation.

The Major fixed him with an inscrutable look. "I would suggest; given the seriousness of your situation; that you shut up and listen, because Dubenich has you all well and truly in the palm of his hand unless we can find a way round it."

He waited until Hardison had stilled, Parker noted, before giving a sharp nod.

"This is the plan," he started, leaning forward in his chair.

#####

"Was that wise?" Sam asked quietly as the General shut the door behind them.

Jack snorted. "Not in the slightest. But it'll work."

She gave him a sceptical look. "We've tried before, sir. Nothing sticks on Dubenich. He's like- like Teflon!"

Smiling slightly, Jack gestured towards the commissary and started walking. "Let's just say that Nate has a fair bit of experience in situations like this and leave it at that, shall we?"

Eyes narrowing at him, Carter almost asked and then decided that, no, she really didn't want to know. She had made the mistake of asking in the past and had learned details about her commanding officer's past that she was not entirely sure she had needed to hear. She had known about his past in black ops, but hadn't _known_ about it, and wanted to be able to continue thinking of him as the genial man she had come to know over the seven years on his team.

Slowly, she nodded. "Yes sir," she agreed, equally slowly, falling in to step with him.

#####

Daniel glanced up from the text he was studying as a tray clattered onto the table next to him.

"Oh, hey Sam," he greeted, attention barely wavering until the note pad was lifted from his hands.

"Jack!"

Jack huffed in resignation. "Daniel. You can have it back when you've eaten your... whatever it is. Jeez, what _is _this stuff?"

Blinking, Daniel turned to his plate and wrinkled his nose in realisation that Jack had disturbed him before he had finished. He really didn't think he could stomach military chow knowing what it was he was eating. He rolled his eyes and pushed the plate away as Sam snickered.

"You know what, Jack, I think I'm done," he groused.

Jack smirked. "Pizza later?" he asked.

Staring at him sceptically, Daniel considered before glancing at Sam.

She shrugged. "Sure," she agreed. "Sounds good to me. Your place sir?"

Daniel barely restrained himself from laughing out loud at Jack's expression. He would have happily offered his own place if he hadn't known what Sam and Feretti had done earlier, and hadn't known that Feretti had probably left something amusing at Jack's.

Jack narrowed his eyes at her, but apparently couldn't come up with a feasible excuse and agreed with a nod.

Smirking, Daniel yanked his notepad out of Jack's now-lax grip. "Yeah," he agreed. "Pizza sounds great."

#####

Eliot froze as the door to the cell he, Parker and Hardison had been returned to swung open.

He wasn't prone to nerves but as he saw Teal'c over the guard's shoulder, he couldn't help the way his throat was suddenly as dry as dust.

The guard jerked his head, indicating that Eliot was to follow, which he did, but the hairs on the back of his neck seemed keenly aware that Teal'c was following mere paces behind them as they made the trek down the corridor to the convenient office that the three prisoners had been taken to individually to give statements.

Entering the room, he moved as surreptitiously, but as quickly as was humanly possible so that his back was to the wall on the far side of the room.

And of course Teal'c noticed.

As First Prime to Apophis, he would have been well versed in tactics.

Teal'c raised a brow at him and gestured to the guard that he could leave. The man glanced to Eliot with a smirk and closed the door firmly as he left.

Eliot heard the man's footsteps retreat down the corridor.

The silence in the room stretched for a long moment before pulling out the heavy chair from in front of the table, allowing it to screech on the floor, dark eyes never leaving Eliot, allowing the silence to stretch once again as he gestured that Eliot should seat himself on the other side of the table.

Reluctantly, although he knew that it didn't matter how far away from Teal'c he was if the other man genuinely wished to cause him real harm, Eliot moved to the second chair; the one which had been specially bolted to the floor.

"The word my people use for traitors," Teal'c informed him almost conversationally, causing Eliot to freeze in place, "is Shol'va."

Eliot swallowed hard, but sat.

#####

Hardison glanced up as Eliot was returned to their cell. The man looked faintly ill.

A glimpse of Teal'c in the corridor told him all he needed to know about the expression on his co-conspirator's face, and he deliberately turned away to give the man a bit of privacy. He rolled his eyes as Parker's quiet, "Oh crap," floated across to him and he mentally tried to will her into silence.

No such luck.

If they got out of this, he was going to teach the damn woman the basics of social interaction if it killed him.

If _she_ killed him.

With a sigh, he sat up and exchanged a rueful glance with Eliot, who rolled his eyes before stalking across the room.

"Offa my bunk," he growled at Parker, hauling her out and dumping her none too gently on the top bunk she had originally claimed. "Go to sleep, Parker," he added as she leaned down to stare at him.

Hardison exchanged a glance with her and shrugged, before rolling over and calling, "Get the lights, Parker," as he pulled his own pillow over his head.


	9. Chapter 9

See part one for header notes

This was going to be posted when I'd finished posting all of "Brother", but then I realised last night that there's at least 15 more chapters, so here's chapter 9 for you lovely people...

#####

General Victor Dubenich gave Sergeant Spencer a long hard look, but all the man looked was sheepish, as though getting found out wasn't something which could have potentially blown the operation wide open, but rather a minor and embarrassing slip. He would deal with the man later.

For now though, the dark haired Captain in front of him occupied most of his attention.

"I'm sorry," he apologised warmly. "What did you say your name was?"

She smiled back at him. "Gunschtock. But please, call me Anna."

"Anna then," he agreed. It cost nothing to be pleasant. But how a South African had ended up working at the SGC he had no idea. While the country was currently on good – comparatively – terms with the States, he didn't think any nation outside the Security Council would have military personnel based at a Most Secret project. "May I ask-?"he began, but it seemed the woman had been anticipating the question.

"How it is I am employed by the SGC?" she asked, smile tightening. "Simple. My mother is South African, but my father was a British Diplomat. Only low level, of course, but it was enough for my mother and I to be able to leave South Africa during the... troubles."

Dubenich glanced briefly at Spencer, but the man hadn't reacted. Had given no indication he had even heard the comment.

He didn't know why he expected more from one of those special ops NCOs. Meat-heads, the whole lot of them.

He returned his attention fully to the pretty, dark-haired woman and smiled disarmingly. "Ms Gunschtock; Anna. Maybe we could discuss this over lunch?"

#####

Eliot waited until the door clicked shut behind Dubenich and Captain Devereaux, Dubenich's admonition to collect his stuff and show himself out still echoing in his ears, before swiftly jamming a chair under the door handle and turning to the air conditioning vent.

Unbolting it and pulling it from its frame, he offered Parker a hand down, but was forced to jump away as she dropped, right where his foot would have been had he not moved.

He growled quietly at her, which she blithely ignored as she moved to attach the transmitter to the underside of Dubenich's desk. Shaking his head, Eliot collected the sheaves of paper he had brought with him. Dubenich need never know that half the information was bunk; Sophie's distraction had worked admirably well.

Papers gathered, he turned back just in time to see Parker hoisting herself back into the air vent and rolled his eyes. Of course she had already finished. He sighed, fastening the cover back in place and unblocking the door, just as Dubenich's secretary tried the handle.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and he smiled disarmingly at the young woman.

"Sorry 'bout that Sergeant," he told her as she fumbled her salute in her moment of surprise. He returned it perfunctorily, feeling oddly guilty about it, even though he was now officially under legal orders. Or, at least, marginally more legal orders than Dubenich's original set. "My file exploded."

She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, it happens to us all, sir. Did you find everything."

He nodded. "Sure hope so, sergeant. Any chance you could show me outta this rabbit warren? I got a bit turned round getting in here."

"Of course, sir. Follow me."

It was with a sense of relief that the woman led them in the opposite direction to her desk as he caught sight of Parker from the corner of his eye as she dropped into the camera blind spot from her hiding spot in the air duct to plant the last transmitter.

#####

Nate sat in front of Jack's desk, carefully keeping his eyes away from the decanter of whisky on the shelves behind the other man.

Jack studied him carefully, before nodding to himself.

"Like I said," he murmured. "Not gonna ask. I like the idea of plausible deniability for a change. _But_," he continued, "I need to know what you're going to need to use to pull the guy in."

Spreading his hands, Nate shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't know precisely what you're doing here beyond travelling through the Stargate, and I don't know what he would be after, beyond the very basics I've been told by Parker, Hardison and Spencer. 'Something about technology' is the most I've got."

Jack nodded. "He's likely after a few things in particular. First on the whole Trust's shopping list is Asgard tech. First thing they all go for. We're lucky Thor's keeping a better eye on their doohickeys lately." His eyes turned introspective for a moment, evidently a bad memory, but he didn't go into it. "Tollan, sometimes. But we've got a couple of new allies that we're trading with more these days. Dubenich would probably go for Amestrian medical technology – it's a huge advance for prosthetics. According to Dr Fraser, that would be worth a fortune to the right people and not black market either."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "And then there's Sanq." He was evidently a bit more frustrated with these allies than the Amestrians. "They have a few things the Trust would want, I mean, these guys have colonies in orbit for cryin' out loud. Who wouldn't want that? But they have something that they're trying to slot together with the prosthetics at the moment. It's a neural tie in. Doc Fraser could tell you more. The two officers who are assigned to the SGC as part of an exchange program have both volunteered to assist you if you need them." He paused. "I'd suggest Captain Edward Elric. He's got prosthetics. Some of the best examples of them."

Nate was intrigued. Edward. "This would be your adopted kid? Ed, was it?" he asked.

Jack gave a tight smile. "One of 'em," he agreed. "You should come to dinner."

#####

Hardison was getting twitchy by the time Eliot and Parker rejoined him in the cell. They had been taken out early and all three of them had been handed the prototypes of the comms devices Alec and Lieutenant Colonel Carter had been working on, and Parker and Eliot had been loaded into an official vehicle with Captain Devereaux, currently masquerading as a civilian contractor from South Africa via Britain.

All he had known was that as soon as their part of the assignment had finished, they had been ordered to remove their mikes and all he had known was that their tracking devices – implanted personally by Dr Fraser, former member of the Spanish Inquisition – were heading back in the direction of the SGC.

He restrained himself from hugging either of them in greeting, because he kind of liked his vital statistics not being either measured or assisted by machinery, but raised his brows in inquiry as the door clicked shut behind them.

"New friend?" he asked Eliot of Dubenich's secretary. "You see any irony at all in the Klingon comments?"

Eliot grunted in response, investigating the pre-packed sandwiches that had been left for them on the unused bunk.

"Parker."

She looked up as he called her name, grinning as she took the roast beef and horseradish sandwich from him.

He held up the last two sandwiches to Hardison. "Chicken or cheese?" he asked.

Hardison shrugged. Neither looked particularly appetising. "Hey!" he protested as the cheese hit him in the solar plexus.


	10. Chapter 10

See part one for notes.

#####

Nathan stared at the blond boy who sat across from him, with his long sleeves and gloves, indoors in the middle of summer. He wasn't totally sure how he had been strong-armed into going to Jack's house for dinner but was pretty sure it had something to do with Jack grilling steaks for them. Captain O'Neill had appeared briefly at the house, explaining the surname, before heading back out again with Major Brooks and two other men, all four dressed in jeans and shirts.

"Team night," Jack had explained. "We try to encourage them."

The meal had gone pretty much as expected, conversations reaching awkward silences and abruptly being cut off, when the front door banged open and footsteps clattered up the stairs.

"Jon!" Jack shouted.

The steps came to an abrupt halt and reversed direction. "Yeah, old man?"

Nate gaped. Whoever the boy's mother had been, he was the very spitting image of his father. He would never have believed that Jack would cheat on Sarah, but here was the living, breathing proof standing in front of his eyes. The boy was no more than eighteen at the most, very clearly favouring Jack in appearance.

He threw a brief glance at Nate, then caught sight of the dishes on the table and brightened. "The runt out?" he asked, dropping his rucksack to the floor and joining them at the table.

"Yeah," Jack informed him. "Team night with eleven. They're going skating."

Jon shrugged, grabbing the spare steak and some salad and digging in. "What's he doing here?" he asked with a brief nod in Nate's direction, causing Jack to snort in something close to amusement.

"I've asked Major Ford to consider becoming my second in command," Jack said, and suddenly Nate found himself subject to an intense study, as though this Jon were weighing and measuring him.

Eventually the boy nodded thoughtfully. "Oh," he said in a mild tone, reapplying himself enthusiastically to his dinner.

#####

Ed had ranted a little; well, okay, a lot and loudly; apparently furious at which people had been arrested once the leaks were discovered, apparently taking it as a personal insult that he hadn't figured out who it was. He had agreed readily to being the "trade goods", however, apparently enthused at the thought of getting revenge on the person who had put people he counted amongst his friends in such a position.

Nate had narrowed his eyes at the young man, before extracting a promise from him that Dubenich would be taken into custody whole and in such a state as to be able to stand trial without delay.

He had received a mutinous look, but the blond had nodded, apparently astonishing Jack and Jon – and he really did need to get that story out of Jack at some point – into silence.

After a long moment, Ed had sighed deeply. "S'pose you want to see what you'll be trading, huh?" he asked, yanking his gloves off. Nate felt his eyes widening as the removal of the second glove revealed a gleaming silvered hand. "Automail," he explained.

Nate couldn't quite believe it. He had seen Ed using utensils, _grabbing _things with that hand, with just as much dexterity as he had exhibited with his other hand. As he watched, the young man flexed his fingers, the prosthetic hand making minute, barely audible glinking noises as they curled into his metal palm.

He met Ed's gaze. "May I?" he asked, reaching out at the young man's nod and taking hold of the hand in both of his. He turned it over carefully, mindful of the fact it was still attached to Ed and examined the intricacy. "How far up does it go?" he asked, fascinated.

Ed gave a one shouldered shrug. "All the way. And my right leg to above the knee is automail too," he confessed. "The fitting on my leg's way tidier than the one for the shoulder – it's easier to fit mid-limb rather than to a joint."

Aware he was staring, Nate blinked. "That's incredible!" he exclaimed, allowing Ed to reclaim his hand and sitting back.

Snorting in something that was almost amusement, Ed turned to Jack. "So pops, if you were some slimy thieving bastard with less morals than the Fuhrer, would you want automail?"

#####

The following morning, Nate was back in Jack's office. "So we've got the bait, and the 'in," he began, "But we need someone to make the sell."

Jack's eyes narrowed and he leaned in. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay, I'll call Sanq. There have been some issues between them and Amestris, and it would be perfectly believable that someone from one would sell out someone from the other."

Nate paused, not liking the sound of that. "Issues," he repeated. "What sort of issues?"

Smirking, Jack pulled a file out of his bottom drawer. "Well, it started out as a prank war and kinda went from there. The pilots and Ed decided that it would be a good thing if they TPed the Military Headquarters of Amestris. Then Hawkeye and some of General Mustang's staff put mousetraps outside all the guest quarters of the Sanq contingent the last time there was a conference, and now we're trying to keep all the perpetrators apart."

Raising his brows, Nate stared at Jack. "Are they all children?" he asked. He wasn't even joking. So he was somewhat surprised when Jack laughed.

"Okay, you'll hear people referring to 'The Pilots' as a group. They're five young men who are a special response unit for the Preventers on Sanq, and they're not officially part of the organisation because thanks to certain laws passed after the second Eve wars the Preventers aren't allowed to hire them.

"Officially they were terrorists in the first Eve War, and despite their actions in the second, the Preventers are still required to keep an eye on them. The kicker though? They were all about fourteen during the first war."

Staring at him, Nate raised his brows slightly.

"So yes," Jack finished. "They were children and they didn't have chance to _be _children, so they're making up for lost time now. And this means that one or two of them would be perfect to play the part of the seller. The official stories make them all out to be a bit nuts."

Nate continued to stare before shaking himself out of his shock. There were several things he could have said and he examined each of them carefully before settling on, "So who would you recommend I ask?"

Jack grinned at him. "Thought you'd never ask," he said as he reached for the intercom on his desk. "Walter, send Preventers Maxwell and Winner in please?" Nate glared. Sometimes Jack knew him a little too well.

He was surprised by appearance of the two young men. To start with, both were... well, short. Short and slim, though he wouldn't trust Maxwell and his maniacal grin as far as he could throw him. And as for Winner, well, there was a speculative bent to that seemingly innocent blue gaze, though both young men were polite and well spoken. Beyond the similarities of height though, the boys were wildly different. While Winner was pale and blond, with neatly trimmed hair and a more compact frame, Maxwell was all sinew and bone, brown hair in a long, loose braid and a smattering of freckles across his tip-tilted nose.

He frowned as Maxwell stayed standing, prowling the office while Winner sat in front of the desk and smiled disarmingly. "General," he said, "I understand you have a job for us?"

Jack grinned and looked over at Nate. "You would be correct. You're going to get your fondest wish, Quatre. You get to sell Ed to someone for vivisection."


End file.
